Hidden In Plain Sight
by avrovulcan
Summary: Illya and Napoleon have to locate a secret document, just where could it be hiden? Originally written for Picfic on LJ.


"It has to be here somewhere." Illya remarked, exasperation colouring his voice as he run his hand through his hair.

They were in the living room of a large mansion; having flushed out the THRUSH inhabitants, who were now safely in UNCLE New York's headquarters. Mr Waverly had charged them to stay behind and find an important document hidden somewhere on the premises and not to return until they had the crucial file.

The only thing they knew for sure was it was located somewhere in this room after overhearing the previous occupants discussing and complimenting themselves over their ingenious hiding place, though, frustratingly, never actually mentioning the exact location.

"I don't think it's here, we've searched the room from top to bottom." Napoleon replied, equally as frustrated.

"Huh, and checked the furniture – twice."

"Not going to forget that lesson are you?" Solo grinned.

"You always delight in reminding me, who would have known the diamonds would be hidden **_inside_** the furniture?"

"Well, not you, obviously; but it turned out okay in the end."

Solo sighed as he remembered spending the evening with Mary Pilgrim, even if it was under the watchful eyes of her Russian guardian. That was until he managed to slip away with Mary for a blissful night, while said chaperone was otherwise occupied with a certain blue eyed blond.

"It might have been for you, you did not have to spend the entire evening trying to avoid the advances from Madame Grushenka," Illya grumbled, also remembering that night several months ago. **

Napoleon scanned the room again, trying to spot anything that looked as though it could be a good hiding place. A mirror on one of the walls didn't seem to be quite in keeping with the décor of the room, it had a heavy dark timber frame whereas the rest of the room was white, even down to the carpet and overstuffed sofas.

"What about the mirror, tovarisch?"

"Hmm, the frame is quite deep, maybe a hidden chamber somewhere?"

Between them they lifted it down and examined it closely, tapping it and listening for any difference in sound that would indicate a concealed hiding place.

"Damn, nothing. I thought we might've been on to something."

Illya propped it against the wall and they continued scouring the room, still with no success.

"What do we tell Waverly if we don't find it? He won't be happy."

"**_We_** do not tell him anything. You are CEA and the higher ranking agent; I will leave that responsibility to you."

"Uh-huh, and why is this the only kind of situation where you seem to remember that?"

Kuryakin grinned slyly. "Selective memory, I believe it is called."

"Yeah, very selective…." Solo cut his retort short as he saw something strange out the corner of his eye, "Illya look, what's happening to the mirror?"

Kneeling down beside it, they examined it more closely. The glass had begun to blur and something was beginning to appear through the haze.

"Well, THRUSH never ceases to amaze me; hidden in plain sight."

"Da, the pipes for the heating run through the wall and the warmth from them seems to have started a reaction. Napoleon I do believe we have found what we are looking for."

Both watched in fascination as the list of new satrapies and current secret codes was slowly revealed.

"Do you think we can remove the glass and just take that?" Napoleon asked.

"No, I do not want to risk losing what is causing the reaction. I think it is best we take it as it is and let Section Eight examine it."

"After we've made a paper copy of the file. I don't know what The Old Man will think of this."

"No, but at least we are not going back empty handed, and I think the mirror will make a nice addition to our office when it has been put back to normal."

They picked up the mirror and made their way out the building to their car which was, unfortunately, parked at the bottom of the long driveway.

"For God sake Illya, don't drop it."

"You are not worried about the seven years bad luck are you? I did not think you believed in such things."

"No, more like the Wrath Of Waverly if this breaks; that's far worse."

"Da, that is true, I do not fancy the next three months in Iceland. I will keep a firm hold, my friend."

** Ref: See Paris and Die Affair.


End file.
